


you're my favorite song

by frozennightmare



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Babyfic, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, ambiguous canon placement, idk which people use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozennightmare/pseuds/frozennightmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tis the season for fluffy Christmas sweater fic.<br/>Ok, I lied a little bit. There's no actual Christmasy stuff involved in this. But it does involve a lot of sweaters and is ridiculously fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're my favorite song

 

  


She starts by stealing the jumpers from his previous regeneration.

He wanders down for breakfast that morning and finds Rose perched up on the one wood chair at the kitchen table,(once upon a time he’d had a matching set but the TARDIS kept mixing them up every time he changed the desktop setting) one hand playing with her cereal spoon and the other buried in her shower-wet hair. “What?” she asks, staring at his flustered face, flicking her eyes down to the cranberry jumper with a hint of a devilish smile.

“That’s my jumper.”

“My jeans don’t fit anymore.” she offers by way of explanation, sliding her hand from her hair down to rest on her hint of a baby bump.

“Then what are you-” He walks over to stare at her bum in a way that cannot even begin to be described as subtle to confirm that yes, she’s still wearing someone’s trousers. “Whose are those?”

“I dunno. TARDIS gave ‘em to me.”

“That’s still my jumper.” He slides down into the chair next to her, staring across his cup of tea. “Did the TARDIS give you that too?”

Rose shakes her head and grins at him, tongue dancing between her teeth. “And I’m not taking it off.”

The Doctor sighs and tries very hard to look upset, but secretly, he loves it.

Rose doesn’t touch another thing of her own, instead working her way through every single one of those jumpers. “You were so drab.” she complains one afternoon, waltzing through the markets of Bezuilline and pinching at the jumper- the olive one this time. “Did you own anything that wasn’t dull?”

She’s clearly making a jab at his newly-purchased raucously colored tie, and he pets it defensively. “Nothing I’d wear. But now, look at me! Bright as peacock!”

She laughs a little too loudly and leans back on his arm, grin not fading as a native makes a very pointed stare at her. “Why do they keep staring? I swear, that’s the fourth one.”

“Bezuilines are oviparous, Rose, imagine what you must look like to them.”

“Do they think I’m trying to carry an egg in my jumper? Oh my God, they do!”

“I like your bump.” he says quietly. “It’s cute.”

 _Cute_ is not a word he uses very often, but there’s really nothing else to describe it.

Subconsciously he’s already slowed down a bit; the planets they go to now are more often the paradise planets then they are the revolutionaries. Sometimes they still get caught up in the trouble, but there are also days when they don’t leave the TARDIS at all, when he parks her in the vortex and they curl up on the couch in the library and just watch the telly all day. It feels terribly domestic, and part of him hates it, but the other part says he could get used to this.

If Rose has noticed, she doesn’t say anything.

It’s one of those days, they’re halfway through a record marathon of the _X Files_ and the Doctor’s blabbering on about how much Scully resembles Rose when she mumbles something about more popcorn and gets up to make another bowl. Seriously, rate she's going, the baby’s gonna be made of popcorn. Popcorn and chips.

He sits there and waits, which is an adventure in its own, attempting to stay in exactly one place for more than thirty seconds, and honestly what is taking her so long? before Rose reenters the room with a massive bowl of popcorn and a completely different jumper.

Well, she was starting to outgrow the other ones. He just wished she hadn’t found that one.

“Did you really used to wear this?” she asks with a laugh, playing with the cricket jumper. “Blimey.”

“Lifetimes ago. Is that what you took you so long?”

“Oh, I got lost, and the TARDIS and I had a little....wardrobe adventure.” she replies with a shrewd smile, and he internally panics a bit. Some of the things he used to wear...there’s a reason the wardrobe is so disorganized, it’s so they never resurface. Ever. Again.

“Mmmkay.” he says in an attempt to blow it off, letting her snuggle back up beside him and resuming the on-screen adventures of the paranormal detectives.

“Did you ever actually play cricket?”

“Oh, once or twice.” He bounces a handful of popcorn, imagining it’s a cricket ball, then lets out a little noise of dismay as it goes flying everywhere. Rose giggles and makes a dive for the salvageable pieces, the swell of her belly getting in the way as they scatter to the floor.

“I used to wear a celery stick, too.” he adds vaguely as she settles deeper into his lap, sliding one hand up underneath her jumper to rest on her belly.

“And you call me crazy.”

“You were ruining a perfectly good box of chips, Rose! I’ve eaten a lot of weird things, but there is no planet where covering them in jam is supposed to be good.”

“They were fine!”

She falls asleep on him halfway through season four.

The Doctor doesn’t get to see the actual aftermath of her wardrobe adventures with the TARDIS until the cricket jumper gets a little bit too small. He knows exactly when that happens because she has an absolute breakdown over it, sobbing into his shoulder for a good five minutes before she realizes what’s happening and pulls herself together.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying.” she laughs suddenly, “It’s just a stupid jumper. Oh God, I’m hysterical, aren’t I?”

“You’re fine.” he reassures her. They wouldn’t be doing this if he couldn’t handle a little hormonal crying. She gets up to go change and maybe fix her makeup and reappears a few minutes later wearing only-

_Shit._

She found it.

“I can’t believe this used to be yours. You look like a walking rainbow.”

“Give me that!” he shouts playfully, leaping for the lapels of the coat, but Rose ducks away and wraps it fabulously around herself like she’s some kind of fashion model. She’s found the scarf, too, dangling off her shoulders and in a long tail on to the floor. “I have never seen a more gaudy thing in my life. I get why you got so drab now. You got scared of this!”

He manages to separate the coat from her body on the second attempt, accidentally pushing her against the wall and brushing her lips with a whisker-light kiss. She reaches back and pulls down on his lips, breathing into it, letting his hands thread through her hair in a manic rush. Rose is very much up for this, stumbling backwards towards their bed with a series of insistent presses, tumbling down over him. He reaches up to drag her down closer, playing around with his tongue, when suddenly Rose draws back with a soft little _oh._

“Rose, what is it? What’s wrong?” He tries to keep the panic from creeping into his voice, but he’s not quite as successful as he would have hoped.

“It’s nothing.” she says softly, sitting back up with a hand on her belly. “She just kicked me, that’s all.”

 _Oh_ indeed. He leans forward to kiss her again, softer this time, working his way down her neck to rest on her swollen stomach. The last one is for them both, mother and the daughter he can’t wait to meet.

She laughs when he does this, but it’s a stupidly happy thing, resting her arms over his shoulders. “Shower, yeah? Maybe I can figure something out that she won’t notice.”

Now that sounds like a good idea.

He wanders back to the kitchen a while afterwards, after attempting to make his hair even wilder than usual simply for Rose’s benefit. She’s sitting at the kitchen table just like she was that first day he caught her in his clothes, except she’s nearly reclined instead of perched, thumbing through a paper she’d picked up last night in twentieth-century France, skimming some article about Charles Lindbergh like it just happened instead of being in a history book. True to form, she’s found another of his sweaters to wear- well, not really a sweater, but a vest covered in question marks over a white button-down. She’s ridiculously beautiful, and he’s content to stand there in the doorframe for a few minutes and just watch her.

“Somethin’ the matter?” she asks finally.

"You look lovely.”

“I look disgusting, I’m as big as a hippo and my hair is a mess.”

“Still beautiful.” he declares. “What happened to the Technicolor Dreamcoat?”

“It’s in a, ah, _place of honor._ ”

Well, he’s not looking forward to finding that one. Although if he knows Rose at all, it’s probably somewhere very obvious. Maybe hanging from the ceiling in their room.

Wherever it is, he decides he’ll keep it there.

A month later, when he finally tracks it down, he can’t believe he didn’t think of it before.

The Doctor is having one of those nights when there are simply too many things on his mind to sleep at all, despite Rose pressed into his side. It happens once in a while, and when it does he wanders. This is how he ends up in the nursery two rooms down, playing with the mobile dangling over the crib- the TARDIS had taken it straight off his own cot, stars he had played with as a tiny tot- staring up at the red-and-gold walls. In the cupboard next to the crib Rose has carefully folded every single one of his stolen jumpers, and hanging on the wall in its promised place of honor is the garish coat itself. He hadn’t realized she had done all this; he can remember the stories from each one, stacked in perfect order.

_Tan, tea with the Queen in 1612. She gave your mum the most awkward parenting advice. Black, spies in the Raxacoricofallapatorian Parliament. Can’t wait to teach you how to say that. Cranberry, the first time she stole my jumper. Olive, the market on Bezuiline. Pink-well, that one’s hers, that’s the time she told me she was pregnant with you. First time she’s ever shocked me into silence, your mum. Cricket, finding out I could get used to this domestics thing. But not permanently, sweetheart. Never permanently. Technicolor Dreamcoat- well, I’ll save that story for when you’re older and I feel like embarrassing you._

“Doctor?” Rose creaks open the door, jolting him out of his reverie, voice a little stilted. Her hand shifts to the bottom of her belly, eyes wide and bit wild, a pained expression on her face.

“Rose. You okay?”

She purses her lips and he realizes that while temporarily things are not ok, they are about to become absolutely _fantastic._

A total of seventeen hours later, Rose deep asleep from exhaustion in a hospital bed on New Earth (he doesn’t completely trust the cat nuns but there’s no denying they’re the best there is; besides, they’re slightly scared of him), he settles into a chair between her bed and the cot and watches his daughter sleep. She’s so incredibly tiny, and he realizes for the first time how weird human reproduction is, all that effort for something so small. On Gallifrey they just loomed you into an adult body and you had to figure things out from there.

She’s still perfect.

Rose begins to stir and he’s suddenly hit with a idea. “Don’t run off, Sarah.” he tells his daughter almost jokingly, and pops into the parked TARDIS for a brief instant, flying through the wardrobe until he finds what he wants. When Rose wakes up, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, newborn cradled in a white jumper, stupid smile on his face.

“Which one is that?” she asks, reaching out to take the baby from him. She cries for a moment, but then calms when she realizes in her tiny mind that she’s moved from one parent to the other.

“From my first body.” he tells her. “Only one you didn’t wear. Figured she had to start somewhere.”

Rose laughs and kisses him softly, letting him slip into bed beside her, neither of them taking their eyes off their daughter for an instant. “I love you.”

“Rose Tyler, I love you too.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> what am i even doing with my life  
> disclaimer: i have never seen an episode of the x files. i just think scully and rose are alike judging by the gifsets on my dash.


End file.
